Sense is a ludicrous notion. The more I try to make of it, the less of it I can perceive. Reduction of the expansiveness and complexity of things which cannot be reduced or constrained makes for a futile passtime. The moment I convince myself that I have sense pinned down, another hole emerges and water springs from my bucket of knowing. Do we really want to contract the universe in to a single sentence? The arrogance of us, these mortal specks of dust being blown about by its whims.
If I am very lucky it will scorn me to teach me the lesson of all the things that I do not know and all that can never be known. Then something will really be understood and it will have made its own sense of me. If I am very stupid I will try to turn that in to words and it will be forced to do it all again. Better to sit quietly and thank it for sparing me from what I think are my own good senses.